


you give me fever

by superhoney



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alpha Castiel (Supernatural), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, COVID-19, Coming Untouched, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Omega Dean, Quarantine, Roommates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2020-04-02
Packaged: 2021-03-01 00:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23446297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/superhoney/pseuds/superhoney
Summary: Dean can hardly be blamed for losing track of time, seeing as he’s been stuck in his apartment for days now. It’s a global pandemic, for god’s sake. You’d think biology could take a break.Or, Dean goes into heat while in quarantine. Thankfully, his Alpha roommate Cas is right there with him.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 60
Kudos: 802





	you give me fever

**Author's Note:**

> First and most importantly, this is in no way meant to make light of a very serious situation. We’re all experiencing this differently, but it’s affecting us all, no matter who we are or where we are in the world. It’s only meant to bring us all some comfort, some laughter, and some escape from these incredibly stressful times, and I hope you take it in the spirit in which it was written. 
> 
> Thank you to VioletHaze and A_Diamond for their support, and to VioletHaze for the beta-read (it always sounds weird using that term in an a/b/o fic, but I digress.)

The first three days aren’t so bad.

Dean has plenty of Netflix to catch up on, not to mention sleep. He does two loads of laundry, careful to wipe down the machines before using them, and runs the dishwasher and empties it on the same day. 

Wild times, indeed.

By day four, he’s starting to get restless. He directs his energy into cleaning the bathroom, scrubbing the tub until its surface practically sparkles. He sweeps and mops the floor properly, rather than just running the Swiffer over it, and removes all the toothbrushes from the chipped mug they sit in to give it a good wash.

He’s sitting on the edge of the tub, contemplating his next step, when the bathroom door opens, startling him. Thank God for his lightning-fast reflexes, otherwise he might have slipped on the freshly-cleaned surface and fallen right in.

“Dean? Are you okay?”

Dean stands, laughing awkwardly. “Yeah. Sorry, Cas. Just lost in thought for a minute there.”

His roommate stares at him for a second longer, then nods. “Well, if you’re finished in here, I--”

He trails off, and it doesn’t take Dean long to catch his meaning. “Oh. Yeah, of course, sorry man. I’ll get out of your way.”

There’s a slight shuffle as Cas backs up so Dean can squeeze through the door around him. This close, Dean can catch a whiff of the marine scent of him, saltwater and fresh air and a hint of something vegetal, like sea kelp. Inhaling sharply, Dean manages a jerky nod as Cas closes the door behind him.

Fuck. 

Dean drops his head into his hands and takes a deep, calming breath. He refuses to give truth to the commonly-held belief that single Alphas and single Omegas can’t share a house without trouble brewing. Most of the time, it’s not an issue. But most of the time, their third housemate, Charlie, is there to even things out with her no-nonsense Beta attitude. 

Also, most of the time, they aren’t under strict orders not to leave the house unless absolutely necessary.

The global pandemic has caused more upheaval than any other event Dean can remember. Lawrence is nothing like New York, but it’s still a college town, with people coming and going frequently, and they aren’t spared from the virus. Dean’s sister-in-law, Jess, is a nurse at the local hospital, and while Dean hasn’t seen her in person since the first case hit Kansas, he gets regular reports from Sam on how exhausted she is. The most Dean can do is drop off indulgent but nutritious meals to keep them both going. 

Now, there’s an idea. Dean likes to keep a well-stocked fridge at the best of times, so that instinct has only increased with the spread of the virus. Some might scoff and call it Omega caregiving, but Dean doesn’t think that’s it, or at least not entirely. He likes feeding people, and he’s good at it. Before all the bars and restaurants shut down, he worked full-time at his buddy Benny’s pub, mostly slinging drinks but occasionally messing around in the kitchen as well. He misses work, more than he ever thought he would, but at least he doesn’t have to worry too much about how he’s going to live without his regular paycheck. Charlie owns this place outright, and rents the extra bedrooms out to Cas and Dean at a ridiculously low price. 

She’s currently stuck in Seattle with her long-distance girlfriend, Gilda, but she’s assured both Cas and Dean (via Skype) that they don’t have to worry about rent for as long as this thing lasts. There are some definite perks to having an independent tech genius for a best friend.

Humming to himself, Dean starts pulling the ingredients for lasagna out of the fridge and cupboards. He doesn’t hear the bathroom door open, but suddenly Cas is there, leaning against the counter and watching him with interest.

“Jesus, Cas.” Dean presses a hand to his chest, willing his heart rate to settle. “You move like a cat, I swear.”

Cas smiles. “What are you making?”

Dean holds up the pan with a grin. “Lasagna.” He pauses, taking note of the long-sleeved t-shirt and fitted sweatpants Cas is wearing. “You heading out for a run?”

“Yes.” 

“Oh.” Dean can’t help the disappointment in his tone. He had been hoping that maybe tonight, he could have some real company over dinner, rather than the people on the TV screen.

“But”-- Cas hesitates, bright blue eyes meeting Dean’s for a second before dropping again-- “I won’t be more than an hour.”

Dean’s grin returns. “This will be ready in an hour and a half.” He makes a shooing gesture, pointing Cas towards the front door. “So you’d better go work up an appetite.”

He curses himself the instant the words leave his mouth. In context, it’s clear he meant by running, but that phrase-- well, it’s generally used in another way entirely. One that has much more to do with clothing strategically removed and sweat building from a different kind of exercise.

Cas gives him a strange look, but he’s too polite to comment. He just flashes another small smile and bends to lace up his shoes. Dean is the one left staring at the perfect curve of his ass, wondering how he’s never noticed it before. 

The door closes behind Cas, and Dean shakes his head to clear the unwelcome thoughts. Sure, he’s always known Cas is a good-looking guy. Those blue eyes, messy dark hair, thick thighs and broad shoulders-- he’s basically the ideal Alpha, especially because he doesn’t fall prey to so many unfortunate non-physical Alpha traits. 

There’s one simple explanation for Dean’s newfound appreciation of Cas’ body: enforced proximity.

With Dean working evenings at the pub, and Cas spending most of his days on campus researching for his PhD in psychology, they generally don’t cross paths that frequently. Or on the rare occasions that they’re both at home, Charlie is usually there as well, shifting the dynamic between them. Dean likes Cas, but he doesn’t really _know_ him, not the way he knows Charlie.

So it only makes sense that with just the two of them rattling around the apartment all day, Dean would want to get to know him better.

In every sense of the word.

***

Dinner is....nice.

Dean made a caesar salad to go along with the lasagna, and when Cas came back from his run, he shyly offered up a bottle of red wine he’d apparently been saving for a special occasion. “Call me pessimistic, but it doesn’t seem like a good long-term strategy right now,” he said as he held out for Dean to inspect.

“This is pretty good,” Dean comments after he takes his first sip. He’s watching Cas over the rim of his glass, waiting nervously to see his reaction to his first bite. Dean’s lasagna recipe is a family classic, and it never fails to--

Cas’ eyes flutter shut as he chews, and Dean grins in satisfaction. “Good, right?”

“This is delicious.” Cas opens his eyes and raises his wineglass in Dean’s direction. “A toast, to you.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Dean takes another sip of the wine before digging into his own meal. “So how was it out there? Sidewalks full of people going for their daily state-approved exercise?”

Cas gives his question serious consideration. “Not too many on the side-streets, but I cut into the park for a few minutes and then right back out. No concept of social distancing there.”

Dean rolls his eyes, but his mouth is too full of (delicious) lasagna to respond.

“Fortunately, I didn’t see too many big groups this time,” Cas continues. “That really sunny day-- was it two days ago? Three?”

An adorable frown creases his forehead. “Three, I think,” Dean offers. “But man, I’m not sure. Time has become even more of an abstract concept.”

Cas laughs, sending a pleasant shiver through Dean’s body. Damn, he likes the sound of that laugh. “Tell me about it. I used to spend hours at the library, buried in research, and time would fly by. Now I’m locked here in my room and it’s like every second lasts an hour.”

Dean toys with a leaf of romaine on his plate. “You know, you don’t have to stay in your room the whole time.”

Cas looks up, startled, and Dean carefully avoids his gaze. “I’m sure all your textbooks and stuff are closer at hand in there but if you ever want a change of scenery”-- he shrugs-- “the living room or dining room table are fair game. I’m not the one still trying to be a productive member of society while all this is going on.”

“Everyone is experiencing this differently,” Cas says quickly. “The pressure to be ‘productive’ at a time like this is a side-effect of our flawed system, and it’s not a personal failing if you aren’t writing a novel or painting a masterpiece.” He tilts his head to the side, thoughtful. “Though I would call this dinner a masterpiece, so you do have that going for you.”

Dean can feel himself blushing. “Thanks,” he says, trying to keep his voice cool like he isn’t inwardly wriggling in delight at the compliment. “I mean it, though. If I’m playing video games too much or my music is too loud or whatever, just let me know, okay? I don’t want to distract you from your work.”

Cas opens his mouth, then closes it again, and busies himself cutting into his lasagna. He’s already almost finished his serving, Dean notes with pride, and his wine is getting dangerously low, as is Dean’s.

“Can I top you up?” Dean asks, hand hovering over the bottle.

Instead of a simple yes or no, Cas lets out a strangled noise that might be a cough. Dean pulls back, concerned, but Cas lifts a hand to calm him. “Sorry. Sorry. Something got stuck.”

Protective instincts kicking into overdrive, Dean examines him carefully from across the table. “Are you experiencing shortness of breath? Fever? Exhaustion?”

“What? No. Dean, I just choked. I’m perfectly alright now.” As if to prove this, Cas lifts his glass and drains what’s left of his wine in one long swallow. Dean watches the elegant line of his throat as he does, wondering what it would taste like under his tongue--

“And to answer your question, yes, I would love a refill.”

“What?” Dean tears his gaze away from Cas’ neck and shakes his head. “Oh. Right.”

His hand shakes slightly as he pours them both another glass of wine, but he doesn’t spill any. Little victories, he reminds himself. 

After they finish eating, there’s a slightly awkward moment when neither of them seems to know how to proceed, but Cas takes charge in typical Alpha fashion. Rising smoothly to his feet, he starts stacking dishes to bring into the kitchen, ignoring Dean’s protests.

“I’m not your guest,” he says. “I’m perfectly capable of loading the dishwasher. I live here too, you know.”

As if Dean could ever forget it. 

Once everything is cleared up, Dean hesitates, not wanting to head back to his bedroom quite yet. “You, uh, wanna watch a movie?”

“I’d love to.” Cas’ response is quiet, but there’s a genuine smile lighting up his face. 

“Cool.” Dean strolls into the living room and bends to examine the shelf of DVDs below the television. “I mean, there’s tons of stuff on Netflix, but I kinda feel like something a bit more retro tonight, you know?”

There’s no reply.

“Cas?” Twisting, Dean looks up at his roommate, who seems to be concentrating intently on the DVD collection. “Hello?”

“Pardon?” Cas blinks like he just got woken from a deep sleep. “You pick. I admit I have a tendency to fall asleep during movies no matter how much I want to see them, so it doesn’t really matter to me.”

Shrugging, Dean turns back to the movies. “Hah! Deep Blue Sea. You seen it?”

Cas tilts his head to the side in a familiar gesture. “Is that the one with the sharks?”

“Yep.” Dean shakes the box in his direction. “What do you say?”

Instead of answering, Cas settles onto one end of the couch and pulls a blanket over himself.

Dean busies himself getting the movie set up, debating where to sit. There’s the armchair, but it isn’t properly angled towards the TV, and he really doesn’t want to miss any of the epicness of this movie. But would it be weird to sit next to Cas on the couch, even though it’s more than big enough for two grown men to share? Or would it be weirder to deliberately _not_ sit with him?

Not for the first time, he wishes Charlie were here. She would drag them both onto the couch and shamelessly plop herself right in between them. Aiming for casual and probably missing by a mile, Dean strolls over to the couch and sits down at a respectable distance from Cas without squishing himself right against the arm. They have god knows how many days of this, he should probably get used to Cas being at close quarters sooner rather than later.

The movie starts, providing a welcome distraction. Dean’s hooked, no matter how many times he’s seen it, but he keeps glancing over at Cas to gauge his reactions. He gets a satisfied thrill when Cas laughs at some of the cheesier lines, happy that they can experience this together.

And speaking of experiencing things together--

This close, Dean can smell the ocean aroma on Cas’ skin. It should be threatening, considering what they’re watching, but it has the exact opposite effect. It makes Dean feel safe, protected, like he’s being carried on a gentle swell under a warm summer sun. Despite the raging storm and circling sharks on the screen, Dean feels curiously content. He snuggles deeper into the couch, his eyes slipping closed--

He jolts out of sleep like he’s gotten an electrical shock. The credits are rolling, and Cas is bent over him, tugging a blanket up over his chest.

“Sorry,” Cas whispers, eyes wide in the dark. “I was trying not to wake you.”

Every instinct in Dean tells him to pull the blanket higher, to curl into this makeshift nest that his Alpha has built for him--

No. Not his Alpha. An Alpha, sure, one who happens to be nearby, and also one who’s sweet, protective, and stupidly handsome, whose scent Dean simply can’t get enough of. He wants to reach up, to pull Cas down to join him on the couch, to flick off the TV and let himself melt into the safety and security of his strong arms, away from all the uncertainty of the world outside.

Instead, he straightens up, pulls his arms over his head in an exaggerated stretch, and offers Cas a guilty smile. “Guess I was the one to fall asleep this time, huh?”

Cas lets the blanket drop. “I managed to stay awake through the whole thing. It was very compelling.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” Dean turns to reach for the remote, but Cas beats him to it.

“Go to bed,” he says, just enough Alpha command in his tone to make Dean shiver. 

He’s about to protest, but his words are cut off by a wide yawn. “Okay,” he mumbles. “Night, Cas.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” Cas answers softly.

And if Dean falls back asleep with those gentle words playing over and over again in his mind, well, he’s only human.

***

An incomplete list of things Dean Winchester learns about Castiel Novak over the course of days five, six, and seven:

He loves the smell of Dean’s coffee in the morning, but will always make himself a mug of black tea instead. He only drinks coffee in the afternoon, and by day six, Dean finds himself turning the kettle on at the same time as the coffee machine, knowing the smell will prompt Cas to emerge from his room.

He runs his hands through his hair while writing. Frequently, and almost violently. No wonder it always looks so messy.

He finds video chats horribly awkward, but he still uses them to check in with his sister in Portland every day.

He goes for a run no matter the weather. Rain, sun, even gale-force winds, he laces up his sneakers and hits the concrete. His dedication is impressive, even if Dean really doesn’t see the appeal of the activity.

He eats a lot. Like, a lot. Dean knows Alphas tend to have fast metabolisms, but Cas can really pack it away. He always expresses his enjoyment if Dean cooks for him, though, and insists on cleaning up afterwards.

He misses reading fiction for fun, and can’t wait to be finished with his PhD so he’ll have more time to devote to pleasure reading.

Also, if he’s tired, he’ll whip out a pair of black-framed reading glasses as he works late into the night. They have no right looking as good on him as they do.

He really does fall asleep during almost every movie. Deep Blue Sea is apparently the exception that proves the rule.

He talks passionately about his work, but he’s also an active listener to Dean’s stories about the people who used to come into the pub. In addition to the occasional psychological explanation for some of their behaviour, he also offers hilariously cutting commentary.

Dean’s low-grade attraction to him is in real danger of becoming a full-blown crush.

***

On day eight, Dean wakes up with the sheets pushed down to his waist, his skin clammy. Grimacing, he rolls out of bed, carefully sticking his head out the bedroom door before emerging. He takes a cooler shower than usual, sighing in relief as the water cascades over him.

He feels normal after his shower, so he chalks it up to a thrilling dream of some kind. Wrapping a towel around his waist, he grins at himself in the mirror and flings the bathroom door open. 

Cas is standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter as he waits for the kettle to boil. His eyes meet Dean’s, and Dean goes suddenly, perfectly still.

“Uh, hey.”

“Good morning.” Cas’ voice is rough, likely from sleep, and he seems to be having a hard time meeting Dean’s eyes. Probably because he’s wearing nothing but a towel.

It’s not like he’s ashamed of his body, or that he believes any of that crap about modesty and lack of Alpha control. It’s just that in six months of living in this apartment together, Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been shirtless around Cas or vice versa. Their conflicting schedules have seen to that.

The silence drags on, thick and tense, until Dean makes an awkward gesture with his hands and says, “I’ll just--”

“I put your coffee on,” Cas blurts out.

“Oh.” Dean stops with his hand on his bedroom door and glances back over his shoulder. “Thanks. I’ll be out in a minute, alright?”

Finally, Cas smiles. “Alright.”

When Dean comes back out, dressed in his current standard outfit of sweatpants, band t-shirt, and faded hoodie, there’s a steaming cup of coffee waiting for him. He could definitely get used to this. 

They chat lightly over breakfast, discussing Charlie’s latest email and wondering when she’ll ever be able to come home. By the time he’s halfway through his coffee and bagel, Dean has pulled off his hoodie and tossed it aside.

“Aren’t you dying in that?” he asks, pointing at Cas’ thick blue sweater.

Cas tilts his head to the side, frowning. “I find it quite chilly in here. Probably because it’s so damp outside.” He nods towards the window, where low grey clouds streak through the sky, promising rain to come. 

“Huh. Weird.” Dean drains the last of his coffee with a shrug. “Well, I’m going to watch a few episodes of Community, if you want to join me?”

“Thank you,” Cas replies, polite as always, “but I should at least attempt to get some work done first.” He stacks his dishes neatly in the sink and gives Dean a little wave as he heads towards his room. “See you later.”

Dean curls up on the couch, ignoring the blanket, and tries not to think about how much nicer it is when Cas is sitting right here beside him.

A few hours later, Cas emerges from his room, hair a disaster. He murmurs a greeting at Dean as he makes his way to the kitchen, then comes to perch on the edge of the couch with a glass of water in hand.

“Have you had lunch yet?”

“Hmn?” Dean looks up and shakes his head. “No, not yet.”

“I’m not much of a cook, but I can make a decent grilled cheese,” Cas offers.

As if on cue, Dean’s stomach rumbles. They both laugh, and Dean reaches for the remote to pause the show. “That sounds awesome. Thanks, Cas.”

It’s not until they’re under the brighter kitchen lights that Cas narrows his eyes, giving Dean a critical look. “Are you alright? You look”-- he hesitates-- “a little flushed.”

Dean puts down his sandwich and presses the back of his hand to his forehead. He’s a bit warm, maybe, but nothing that feels alarming. “I’m fine,” he says, picking his sandwich back up. “This is great, by the way.”

“Mmn-hmn. I won’t be deterred with compliments.” Cas rises, rummaging in the junk drawer and coming back with a thermometer. “Have you taken your temperature properly?”

There’s still a comfortable distance between him and Dean. Nothing at all threatening in his stance, or in the way he stretches out the hand holding the thermometer. But Dean swats him away like an angry cat, taking an instinctive step back.

“I said I was fine,” he snaps. “I don’t need your overprotective Alpha bullshit, okay?”

Cas’ face goes pale, and he stops dead in his tracks. “Dean, I--”

“Thanks for lunch.” Dean turns sharply on his heel and stalks back to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Once inside, he drops his head into his hands and lets out a shuddering breath. “Jesus,” he mutters. Where the hell did that come from? Cas didn’t do anything wrong. Hell, Dean’s had daydreams about him that started just like that, Cas looking at him with such care and concern in his eyes. Normally, they don’t involve Dean acting like a bratty kid in response.

He paces around his tiny room, wondering if he should go back out and apologize. It would be the right thing to do, but shame is burning through Dean’s body, and he can’t summon the courage to own up to his childish behaviour. Besides, Cas might be pissed off, and it’s probably a good idea to give him some space.

It’s the logical thing to do, he tells himself frequently over the next five hours he spends in his room. The best thing, for both of them.

He calls Sam, texts back and forth with Charlie a bit, wastes a few hours scrolling through social media on his phone. At one point, it starts raining, but he cracks the window open anyway, letting the fresh air waft over him. It feels like a blessing he isn’t sure he deserves.

By six o’clock, his stomach is growling again. Dean takes a deep breath and climbs off his bed, running a hand through his hair before slowly pushing the door open.

Cas is at the dining room table, surrounded by piles of books and his laptop, but his head snaps up at the sound of the door opening. He opens his mouth to speak, but Dean doesn’t give him the chance.

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out. “You were just being nice and I freaked out on you.”

“It’s fine.” Cas’ voice is neutral, his eyes steady on Dean’s. “You were right, I was being overly familiar. I apologize.”

“No, no.” Dean brushes his words aside and drops into the chair across from him. “It’s only fair that you get a bit worried about me being sick. We’re sharing the same space, so obviously you wouldn’t want to think I was carrying this thing.”

Cas looks down briefly, then meets Dean’s eyes again. “That’s not why I was worried.”

There’s no misinterpreting his statement. A wave of warmth spreads through Dean’s body and he has to look down, because he can feel his cheeks burning and he doesn’t want to send Cas running for the thermometer again. “Oh,” is all he says. 

He lets the idea dance around his head. Cas was worried, not out of his own self-interest, but simply because he was worried _about Dean._ As a friend, of course, a roommate, someone whose company he’s come to enjoy over the past week of enforced proximity--

“Anyway.” Dean squares his shoulders and offers Cas a bright grin. “Sorry my temper got the better of me. I think it must have been the cabin fever settling in.”

“A perfectly reasonable explanation.”

“So, to make up for it”-- Dean gestures to the fridge-- “how about I make us both some dinner?”

And Cas smiles, shutting his laptop with a firm click. “Sounds perfect.”

To Dean’s relief, they manage a perfectly friendly, normal conversation all through dinner. Once they’ve finished, Cas suggests a movie, but Dean’s attempt to agree is swallowed by a huge yawn. He’s exhausted all of a sudden, and while he knows first-hand that the couch is pretty comfortable, it just can’t compare to his bed.

“Sorry,” he says sheepishly. “I think I’d better just head to bed. I’m so tired, and I don’t even know why. Not like I did anything today.”

“Sleepiness is one way of responding to the stress of this situation,” Cas replies. He bites his lip as he looks at Dean, which is incredibly distracting. “I’m not suggesting anything. But if you weren’t feeling well”-- he exhales slowly-- “I hope you would trust me enough to tell me.”

Dean’s knees go a little wobbly. He is not swooning. It’s just nice, hearing that concern in Cas’ voice. It would be nice from anyone. It just means a bit more, coming from Cas. “Yeah,” he says hoarsely. “Of course I would.”

“Alright.” Cas gives him a soft smile. “Get some rest, Dean.”

And who is Dean to argue with the best-smelling Alpha he’s ever met, when his orders are phrased so softly and so sweetly? “Thanks, Cas.”

He shuts his bedroom door behind him, but not before he hears Cas’ whispered reply. 

“Anytime.”

***

On day nine, Dean finally puts the pieces together.

There’s no mistaking the restless, itchy feeling under his skin, the flush in his cheeks and the sparkle in his eyes when he glances in the mirror above his dresser. Every nerve in his body is alight, and even the whisper of his cotton sheets across his skin is like the sweetest torture.

“Dean Winchester, you are a goddamn idiot,” he says into the mirror.

He doesn’t even bother checking the calendar on his phone. He knows, without a doubt, that he isn’t sick, not with the flu or anything more serious.

They’re in the middle of a global pandemic, for god’s sake. You’d think biology could take a break.

He takes a deep breath and considers his options. He’s got a fake knot in the box under his bed, and most months, it’s enough to get him through. The first few days of his heat are intense, but it doesn’t usually last too long, thank god. He just needs plenty of water, some snacks, and enough time to ride this out.

The only problem is the Alpha outside his door.

Once he stocks up, Dean probably won’t leave his bedroom anyway, except for brief visits to the bathroom. But before he settles in, he needs to grab a bunch of stuff from the kitchen. All the pantry-filling he did to prepare for quarantine is going to come in handy, that’s for sure. 

He presses his ear to the door, but he can’t hear Cas moving around the kitchen or living room. He tends to get up after Dean, only rising once the coffee’s on, so if Dean sneaks out now and doesn’t start the machine like he normally would--

Easing the door open, Dean stops dead in his tracks at the sight of Cas sprawled out on the couch.

There isn’t even time to dart back inside his room. Cas’ head snaps up, and his gaze locks onto Dean’s. His nostrils flare, and Dean bites back a whimper at the expression of pure want that crosses his face.

With visible effort, Cas smiles. “Not just the cabin fever, then.” Of course he can smell it on Dean. Charlie usually uses some scent-neutralizing room spray to literally clear the air during Dean’s heats, but they ran out last month and of course, Dean hasn’t replaced it yet. 

Dean laughs weakly. “Guess not.” He takes a step forward, watching the way Cas tracks his progress but doesn’t move a muscle. “I’m just gonna grab some stuff and hide out in my room until I can ride this out, okay?”

Cas nods stiffly. “Yes, of course. Normally I would offer to leave until it’s passed, but considering the restrictions in place--”

“No, no.” Dean shakes his head. “It’s not worth the risk. We’ll be fine.” 

“Right.” Cas’ hand flexes on the couch, and Dean immediately wonders how it would feel stroking down his back, fingertips lightly skimming over his skin…

“We’ll be fine,” he repeats. He crosses to the kitchen, loads up with as many bottles of water and granola bars as he can carry, and flees to the safety of his bedroom.

He doesn’t open any of them, though. He scrambles onto his bed, frantically tearing off his clothes, and sinks two fingers into his hole with a gasp. He rocks back onto his hand, moaning, and it only takes a few strokes of his free hand over his cock before he’s coming on a long sigh that sounds suspiciously like Cas’ name.

Once he can catch his breath, he flops back against his pillows and says, “Well, fuck.”

***

The next few hours are manageable. Dean eats, naps, and comes in a regular cycle. His fingers aren’t enough by hour two, but his trusty fake knot is there to help out. He tries to keep quiet, but sometimes a sound will slip past his lips and he’ll freeze, wondering if Cas heard him. Not that it matters-- Cas knows exactly what he’s doing in here anyway.

At some point, maybe around one o’clock, Dean rouses himself from a doze at the sound of a light knock on his door just as his phone chimes with a new text.

_I’m back in my bedroom. I left you something outside your door._

Something warm and soft settles in Dean’s chest as he cautiously opens the door to find a grilled cheese sandwich and a glass of orange juice sitting in the hall. He can smell traces of Cas’ aroma in the air, but true to his word, the Alpha has given Dean plenty of space. Dean smiles to himself as he brings the plate back to his nest, feeling absolutely decadent as he eats grilled cheese in bed. 

By late evening, his heat has settled in. He’s fucking himself back on his fake knot with desperate whines escaping him despite his best efforts, and not long after his orgasm tears through him, he feels the heat building in his belly again. He’s finished most of his bottled water, but he can’t drag himself out of bed to get more. He lies on his bed, panting for breath, feeling incredibly sorry for himself.

At first, he thinks he’s imagining the knock on his door. Some sort of heat-induced hallucination. But then it comes again, firmer this time, and accompanied by a low voice. “Dean?”

Dean sits up, though it takes more effort than he’d care to admit. “Cas?”

Not the most stimulating conversation, but whatever.

There’s a brief pause, and then-- “Are you...alright? I don’t mean to intrude, but you sound like you’re in, ah, considerable distress.”

“Fuck.” Dean drags himself out of bed and presses his body up alongside the door. He can smell Cas’ steadying Alpha scent, and he gulps it in, letting it flow through his body and calm his racing heart. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bother you, I just--”

“Dean.” Cas interrupts him before he can go further. “It’s fine. I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to help.” Another pause. “Not in that way, of course, I would never dream of--”

“I’ve been dreaming of it.” The words escape Dean before he can pull them back, and he swears he hears Cas’ sharp inhale even through the door separating them. “Been dreaming about you, Cas. About having you inside me rather than this plastic knot.”

“Dean.” There’s an edge of a growl in Cas’ voice now, sending a pleasant shiver down Dean’s spine. “We both know that’s just your heat talking.”

“It’s not.” Dean presses his forehead against the door, closing his eyes. He can almost picture the tension in Cas’ posture, the brightness of his eyes. The cat’s out of the bag now, so he’s got nothing left to lose. “I’ve thought about it before. You’re so fucking gorgeous, Cas, and you smell so good, like the ocean on a sunny day. The other night, when we were watching that movie and I fell asleep? I wanted to reach up and kiss you as you put the blanket over me. You’re so goddamn sweet, you know that?”

“You were approaching your heat even then, Dean.” Cas’ voice is definitely strained. “I don’t think that’s valid support for your argument.”

Dean pulls back, glaring even though Cas can’t see him. “A full five days before my heat hit? If you think all Omegas are so needy and irrational that they can’t think clearly for so much of the month, then maybe I don’t want to fuck you anyway.”

For one tense second, Dean thinks Cas has left. But then he starts to laugh.

“You really are in a clear state of mind,” Cas gasps out between bursts of laughter. “No heat-addled Omega would ever dream of talking back to an Alpha like that.”

A grin spreads slowly across Dean’s face. “Or maybe I’m just not a very good Omega.”

“No.” Cas’ laughter comes to an abrupt halt. “You’re perfect.”

Dean’s glad the door is there to support him, because this time, he really does swoon. “Cas?” he says quietly. “Help me, please?”

The door opens with such force that Dean stumbles forward, but Cas’ strong arms are right there to catch him. Dean buries his face in Cas’ neck and inhales deeply as Cas tightens his arms and carries Dean back to his bed.

Until this moment, Dean somehow managed to forget that he was completely naked. Cas lowers him gently to the mattress, eyes travelling a slow path from Dean’s face all the way down to his feet. “You’re beautiful,” he says, almost reverent. 

“And you’re still wearing way too many clothes,” Dean shoots back.

Cas grins, a slow, satisfied smirk that Dean has never seen on his face before. “Maybe,” Cas admits. “But I don’t need to be naked for what I have in mind first.”

Reaching out, he pulls Dean to the edge of the bed, then slides gracefully to his knees. Dean moans in anticipation, but Cas pauses, hands braced on the bed on either side of Dean’s thighs. “You’re sure?”

“Yes. God, yes.” Dean nods so frantically his neck feels floppy. “Cas, I need you to touch me--”

His words are cut off by an embarrassingly loud groan as Cas closes his lips around Dean’s cock. Dean tilts his hips up off the bed, thrusting into the wet warmth of Cas’ mouth, until Cas’ big hand settles on his leg and holds him steady.

Dean’s met a few Alphas who don’t mind sucking cock before, but no one has ever treated him the way Cas is now. He alternates long licks up the side of Dean’s shaft with teasing flicks of his tongue across the head before taking him deep, blue eyes locked on Dean’s. Drawing back, he moves his mouth to the inside of Dean’s thighs, nipping lightly at the sensitive skin there before returning his attention to Dean’s cock.

He isn’t going to last much longer, but frankly, Dean doesn’t give a damn. If there’s one good thing about being in heat, it’s how great his stamina becomes, and he has no doubt that Cas will be more than capable of keeping up with him. 

There’s also little point trying to hold out when Cas is pulling all his best tricks. He pulls back almost all the way, then slowly slides forward again, holding Dean’s gaze with burning intensity. Meanwhile, his free hand slides between Dean’s legs, fingertips brushing ever-so-lightly across Dean’s slick entrance.

The air leaves Dean’s lungs on a gasp, and he spills down Cas’ throat before he even has a chance to warn him. Gasping for breath, Dean tries to sit up, but Cas gently keeps him in place, laying tender kisses over Dean’s thighs and stomach until he recovers.

“Jesus Christ,” Dean says eventually. “Get up here.”

Cas flows up to join him on the bed and Dean pulls him into a messy kiss, too come-drunk to care about the taste of himself on Cas’ lips. “Okay, Alpha,” he murmurs. “You had your way. Now would you please take your fucking clothes off so I can touch you?”

Pressing one last lingering kiss to Dean’s lips, Cas pulls away. “Very well.”

He takes his time with it, slowly stripping off each layer of clothing and tossing it to the ground. The window is still open a crack, and the cool breeze wafts his ocean smell all around the room. There’s an edge to it now, a hint of lightning over open water that isn’t normally present, and Dean knows it’s the scent of pure desire. 

Shameless, he spreads himself out over the bed like a pin-up and watches as Cas’ eyes turn the colour of the sea under a storm. He’s getting hard again already, and he knows Cas notices by the way a satisfied smile spreads across his face. 

Torturously slow, Cas pulls down his navy boxers, leaving him bare to Dean’s gaze. He’s solid muscle all the way down, tanned and strong, and Dean wants to get his mouth on every inch of that exposed skin.

“Cas,” he says, raising one eyebrow, “now is not the time to start social distancing. Get the fuck over here.”

Cas laughs, and warmth spreads through Dean’s entire body at the sound. In one quick movement, Cas joins him on the bed, propping himself up on one elbow as he gazes down at Dean’s face.

Dean meets his eyes and sees as much fondness as desire in them. Leaning forward, he meets Cas’ lips with his own, marveling at their softness as they press urgently back against his. 

He’s so lost in their deep kisses that he barely notices when Cas pivots to straddle him, bringing their bodies into contact from head to foot. Dean slides his hands down the back of Cas’ head and over his broad shoulders, tracing the defined muscles there. Cas lets out a low growl as Dean teases him with the tips of his fingers, moving his mouth to the side of Dean’s neck and temporarily distracting him from his exploration.

“Gorgeous,” Cas whispers, the word burning into Dean’s skin like a brand. “Always thought so, from the first day we met.”

Dean arches his lower body upwards in response, rubbing himself against Cas’ erection. He’s big even for an Alpha, and as much as Dean is enjoying the opening act, he’s more than ready for the main event. 

“Need you, Cas,” he says. “Now.”

Cas kisses him again, swiftly and fiercely, then pulls back with a slight frown. “Condoms?”

“In the nightstand.” Dean sets his jaw in a stubborn line, ready to defend having protection so close at hand, but Cas just favours him with a rakish grin and reaches over to grab the packet from the drawer. 

Under Dean’s appreciative gaze, Cas rolls the condom over his cock. He presses a kiss to the centre of Dean’s chest, and Dean starts to flip over, but Cas keeps him in place. “Like this,” he says. “Please.”

Dean blinks up at him. No Alpha has ever--

Cas sighs and kisses him again, this time on the tip of his nose. “Dean. Unless you find my performance unsatisfactory, we’re going to have many other opportunities to have sex over the next few days. I promise I will fuck you on your hands and knees and make you scream so loud all our neighbours will be distracted from their work, but this time at least, I want to see your face.”

There’s really nothing Dean can say to a speech like that, so he just spreads his legs wider and pulls Cas down into a hungry kiss.

When Cas finally slips inside him, Dean sighs in deep satisfaction. God, he’s perfect, filling Dean up completely. He winds his arms around Cas’ neck as he starts to move, slowly at first but hitting deep inside Dean with every thrust. 

“Feel so good inside me, Cas,” he whispers. 

Cas pauses for a moment, then pushes forward again. “God, Dean, you’re so tight, so wet--”

“All for you, Cas. All for you.” Dean’s pretty much babbling at this point, but he doesn’t care, and it doesn’t seem like Cas does either. “Fuck me, Alpha, please.”

A growl rises in Cas’ throat, and he withdraws fully before slamming back into Dean’s body. Dean gasps, shifting his hips up to meet Cas’ thrust. “Yeah, just like that. Give it to me, Cas, come on.”

“Is this what you need?” Cas’ jaw is set in a tight line, as if he’s desperately trying to cling to some sort of control. “Tell me what you need, Dean.”

Dean whines and bucks under him. “Harder, Cas. Please.”

True to type, Cas rises magnificently to a challenge. He braces his arms above Dean’s head and rolls his hips back before thrusting so deep into him that Dean sees stars. The room smells of slick and sweat and the combination of their scents, and Dean doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to sleep in this bed without remembering this exact moment. 

Reaching between their bodies, Dean tries to get a hand around his cock, but Cas looks down and bites his lip. “Can you come without it?” he asks. Begs, almost. The plea in his voice sends a rush right to Dean’s head and he nods, secure in the knowledge that if anyone could make him come untouched, it’s Cas.

He’s getting close anyway. Dean licks a stripe up the side of Cas’ neck, chasing the salt-smell of him along with the salt-taste of his sweat, and thrills at the way it makes Cas groan. “Dean--”

“Come on, Cas.” Dean looks up and meets his eyes. “Knot me.”

Cas snaps. Burying his face in the crook of Dean’s shoulder, he moves like the tide, surging into Dean’s body again and again. “You first. Come for me,” he coaxes, breath warm against Dean’s skin. “Come with me.”

His teeth scrape delicately over the thin skin where Dean’s neck meets his shoulder, and Dean is lost.

He comes with a sigh, every muscle in his body going slack, spilling hot and white over his own stomach. Cas looks down at the mess he’s made, eyes shining with satisfaction, and pushes forward one more time, his knot sliding easily into Dean’s slick channel.

They both groan at the feeling, Dean’s body still humming from his orgasm. Cas scatters kisses across his face and chest, his movements causing his knot to twitch slightly inside Dean, sending aftershocks of pleasure through his veins. 

It’s several minutes before either of them has the breath to form words. “Well,” Dean says thoughtfully. “I don’t think I would call your performance unsatisfactory.”

Cas snorts into his hair, leaning back to look down into Dean’s face. “High praise indeed.” His face softens as he looks into Dean’s eyes, and he presses a kiss to the centre of his forehead. “Feel better?”

“Mmn-hmn.” Now that his heat has been temporarily satisfied, Dean’s exhausted. It always takes a lot out of him, but spending it with someone as fit as Cas is going to leave him more wrung out than usual.

Totally worth it, though.

“Sleep,” Cas orders, an edge of amusement in his voice. “Once my knot goes down, I’ll clean us up and bring you something to eat.”

“Yes, Alpha,” Dean replies, eyes already closed. Just before he drifts off, he feels Cas shift against him, making himself more comfortable, and Dean falls asleep with a smile on his face.

***

Days ten, eleven, and twelve pass in a haze of fucking and knotting and fucking some more, with the occasional break for eating and sleeping. True to his word, Cas does fuck Dean in every position imaginable, and Dean does scream so hard he worries the neighbours will hear despite the well-insulated walls.

***

When Dean wakes up on day thirteen, it’s without the burning sensation in his veins and the desperate need to be filled. He rolls onto his side, provoking a disapproving grunt from Cas, who’s currently wrapped around him like an octopus. “Hey,” he says, nudging him gently. “My heat broke.”

Cas’ eyes open slowly, and he blinks a few times before focusing on Dean’s face.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” Dean continues, wrinkling up his nose. “And then definitely wash all these sheets.”

“Of course.” Cas gets to his feet and starts gathering his clothes up from the floor. “I’ll just--”

Dean rolls his eyes and catches Cas around the waist, pulling him close. “Hey. Don’t get weird on me now. My heat might be over, but our quarantine isn’t.”

“I know.” Cas’ eyes are wide and earnest, his lower lip pulled between his teeth. Dean wants to kiss the strain away from around his eyes and cook him a three course meal, because he deserves it. “I don’t want to impose on you any longer than--”

“For fuck’s sake.” Dean pinches the bridge of his nose and fixes Cas with a glare. “Will you stop being so goddamn tragic about this whole thing and take a shower with me?”

Cas freezes, the bundle of clothing falling from his hands. “You want--”

“I want you, Cas.” There’s a lump rising in Dean’s throat, but he forces the words past it. “Not just for your knot, okay? I loved hanging out with you even before we locked ourselves in my bedroom for three and a half days. I want more of that, of us having dinner together and you falling asleep during movies afterwards.” He grins. “And yeah, more sex wouldn’t be a bad thing. We’ve got nothing but time.”

Surging forward, Cas kisses him so hard Dean’s head spins. “Yes,” he says. “To all of it.”

It isn’t until after they’ve emerged from the shower, put the laundry in, and made dinner that Cas frowns as he glances around the apartment. “I haven’t checked my phone in days,” he says. 

“Me neither.” Dean laughs, but immediately gets to his feet to find it. “Shit, I hope everyone is okay.”

There are a few messages from Sam and Jess, one from Benny, and a handful of social media tags from other acquaintances, but nothing dire. Dean is in the middle of replying to Sam when Cas makes a strange choking sound.

“What?” Dean hurries over to him, immediately on high alert. “What is it?”

Expression unreadable, Cas passes his phone over to Dean. It’s open to his chain of messages with Charlie, going back a few days.

_Hey Cas! Just wanted to let you know, Dean’s heat will be hitting in the next few days! I know normally you clear out the apartment at this time but I’m not really sure how that’s going to work right now???_

_Just checking in! Did you or Dean remember to pick up some of that scent-neutralizing spray on one of your toilet paper runs?_

_Cas. Seriously. Is everything okay?_

_Oh my god you two are fucking right now, aren’t you. That’s why neither of you is answering me. I swear to God if I get home and the entire place smells like sex, I’m kicking you both out._

_Just kidding, you know I would never. I’m happy for you both, really. But text me back._

Dean bites his lip to hold back his laughter, but it’s a futile effort. “Poor Charlie. We should probably call her and apologize, shouldn’t we?”

“Most profusely,” Cas agrees. “And possibly thank her, as well.”

Sliding his arms around Cas’ shoulders, Dean leans in for a kiss. “And then after that?”

He loves to watch the way Cas’ eyes darken at the suggestiveness in his voice. “I’ve got plenty of ideas,” Cas murmurs.

“Good.” Dean kisses him again, slow and luxurious. “And we’ve got nothing but time."


End file.
